Fireside Tales (One-shot collection)
by AgentBlueHorse
Summary: So...sit down my friends, you look weary from your travels and I do not mind sharing the light and heat of my campfire for a little while. In fact, I would be more than happy to have the company- to get the chance to lift up my voice and tell the tales again. Stories of strange beasts, heroes, warriors, ancient ruins, and so much more fill my mind. So stay awhile and listen.
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction to Part** One.

Our lives are- and always will be filled with mysteries, this a fact that cannot be ignored. Even today, with all we've learned and all we've discovered, there are still things that can easily make us question exactly how much we know- compared to what's really out there. We guess and we wonder- we argue and debate- then, once inspired by the unknown...we start to create- trying to grasp onto some (however faulty) knowledge of the unknown, so that we can ease our and others fears by "knowing" what's out there.

Often this proves to only make it harder to separate the truth from the fiction- however much that there might be left- if any was there to begin with. Our history becomes muddled and blurred by the tales of the past; entire battles can be rearranged by the voice or pen of a crafty story teller, or simply confused over time- with each retelling changing the story bit by bit, until it is exactly that- a story. And with the magic that exists in our world- our realms, one can never be exactly sure what strange occurrences actually happened; and which ones came from the mind of another person- fueled by curiosity and an idea strong enough to make the hand itch for pencil or pen.

By now you've inevitably heard the old myths- the legends- the tales. But I've found that each person I've met has their own viewpoint, their own style, their flare to add to the tales that have been told a hundred times before. And however unexplainable it may be we always seem to find ourselves sitting in the light of campfires on the roadsides and the fireplaces in the inns and taverns to hear the old stories again and again; waiting to be impressed, amused,...maybe even frightened. We storytellers- you see, like to review the classics, you must know them by now- Herobrine, the Ender Dragon, the Wither, King Notch?! We like to tell our own tales as well, and I do that well enough- as well as any of the others.

So, sit down my friends- you look weary from your travels and I don't mind to share the light and heat of my campfire for a little while. In fact, I would be more than happy for the company of you all to help drive away the shadows and a mobs on a dark night, such as this. I would enjoy the chance to once again lift my voice and tell the tales. So stay awhile and listen to a young mare spin her yarns, won't you? And by all means ask me anything you please- any request, any idea that might help me when my own imagination runs dry- although I do not think that will happen for awhile yet. Stories of strange beasts, warriors, heroes, ancient ruins, and so much more fill my mind to the point where it makes me even happier that you're here- these tales beg to be told. Although, I must admit that it may take a few moments for me to form my words- to tie and weave them together so that they dance through the air and do not catch unpleasantly on the ears. Be patient, it will not take long- unless some fool skeleton decides to peg me in the head with an arrow- this damn helmet rings like a bell with or without my head in it when anything strikes it- so it'll take a little longer for me to collect myself and take care of the undead archer who seeks to take my life!

As with any other story you'll have to be the judge of whether or not to believe mine- I won't say that I am the best...and I hope to the good old hero- King Notch, that I'm not the worst! Hopefully I won't bore you to tears. All I want is the same thing that any storyteller- any artist wants...a chance to impress, to delight, and entertain.

So...what do you say? Will you take a seat around my fire and listen- or are just passing through with no time with no time, interest, or patience to make you listen? Well...I cannot make you listen- nor would I force you; it is your choice, and I do not wish you ill if you do not return.

Safe travels, and a heartfelt goodbye to the ones that will move on down the road.

And welcome to the ones that will stay and listen for awhile.

* * *

**A/N: This is going to be a collection of one-shots where I make up my own stories surrounding some of the well known myths of minecraft; and I'll make up some of my own along the way- these will be mostly/purely from my imagination and ideas. If you want to give me a suggestion or prompt, please do...but I'll be working mostly from the ideas I've written down so far- I have a lot of ideas! **

** But please be patient, I've got good ideas, but ideas by themselves don't make a story. And if I get held up on a good idea that's just not working out the way I want it to...then it might be a while- sorry about that.**

** For those of you who have read this far- this is how it's going to work; the Parts of this story are like separate parts in a novel- tied to the whole...while separate. My plan is to make different batches of these stories told by the same character- one part will be told by one character, the next part and the next batch of stories by a different character; these parts will always start with an introduction, probably it'll be mostly from the storyteller's point of view- but occasionally I think I'll shift over to the listener's point of view. Make sense?**

** - Thanks for reading,**

**BlueHorse.**


	2. Chapter 2

Long ago, the fortresses of the Nether were once filled with life- as a war consumed all the realms of the vast world we know as Minecraftia, a massive war that swept the majority of this world's races into the conflict built the structures out of the dangerous world around them. What was the exact cause of the war- how it started and how it ended has been for the most part forgotten. The fierce battles and the dates of attacks on villages and cities lost with time. The winners and the losers of the war erased from memory by that ever progressing power that looms over us all...time. Stories are all that remain- the soldiers who fought in that war now lie beneath the ground along with their children and their children's children; people who might have been able to give us some accurate account or piece of history from that time. So now it is left almost purely to the imagination and what fragments of the past that remain- such as the crumbling ruins of the Nether fortress, to tell the story of the war.

Anyone who has ever been to the Nether has seen them- towers that still stretch high into the air, standing tall and sturdy even after centuries in that unforgiving landscape. Bridges and walls pockmarked by canon and arrow fire; the stonework cracked and chipped with battle and age. Maze-like corridors littered with abandoned and forgotten belongings, piles of ashes that the realm always creates building up in the corners of the walls. The once cleanly swept brick covered in dust and ash and filled with long spider-webbing cracks, the once gleaming metalwork- now only gaping holes where the iron and gold was pulled from their places by adventurers, scavengers, and soldiers. It's not completely clear which side won or lost- but the Blazes must have been on the losing side for their forces to have taken this much damage and to have been abandoned in such a way. There have been- and always will be a brave many that have traveled to these fortresses in search of fortune and glory; often all they've found are scattered ashes and bones, occasionally a broken sword. Fueled by the stories of magical swords and potions they never stop to realize that the best the fortresses had to offer would've been taken long ago as spoils of war when the fortresses were invaded. Over the years the places have been picked clean- by the adventurers and by the ones these fortresses rightfully belong to.

The Blazes themselves might be the only ones who know the history of the war- might have kept it in their memories better than we did; but there is no way that a Blaze would ever tell us what really happened...even if they could. It is no secret that Blazes despise Overworlders- a characteristic trait that might have begun during the war I've mentioned, or perhaps it has just always been that way. Regardless, their hatred is one of the things that makes it so dangerous for any of our kind to enter that realm- and so much more foolish for the adventurers who stubbornly invest in traveling to that realm only to come back with a few burns and a measly broken wooden sword. Not all Blazes hate us though.

Now you might be thinking that even if there was a Blaze that didn't hate humans- they still wouldn't risk the punishment to help or befriend us.

And for the most part you'd be right, many Blazes wouldn't take that risk...

...but others would- and have.

I can see you all now, leaning forward on the edge of your seats wondering impatiently when the real story will begin- what this is all leading up to. Some of you seem to know what's in store, others are unsure- just waiting for it all to begin. It's taken me long enough to form my thoughts, and for that I apologize...I can only hope the story I have to tell is worth waiting for or that the one after it might be better...maybe- hopefully...hmmm- now how did that one go again?...

Ah! But first, I need to explain a few things to you. As you probably know Blazes are elemental beings- able to control fire and seemingly made up of flame and smoke; what you probably don't know is that they have a physical form. They can bleed and their bones can break. Although this "physical form" is only a representation of their personality and what they see themselves as. When Blazes become angry they often lack the concentration it takes to hold onto a form- it's not really a matter of projecting a form, but a matter of not allowing their powers to take over them so much that a physical form isn't needed- not letting their powers grow to the point where they no longer control fire, but they are fire. Due to the hatred their race has for all of ours, they often appear as floating heads- which might be funny if it weren't for the fact that the beings are out to spill our blood the second they spot us. Hardly anyone has anyone ever seen a Blaze in a solid form...and known it at least. You see, some Blazes are masters at the art of changing their physical forms- some have even been known to turn themselves into dragons and ghasts; though there are only a few with this level of skill and the few that there are, are highly praised for their talent. During the war they would have been even more prized then they are today- spies and assassins that could blend into their environment perfectly, striking from where they were least expected.

It is for this reason that it's so shocking that the side the Blazes were on lost the war, with that ability it would've been almost too easy for their army to wipe out the leaders of the Overworld's armies- even replace them with their own soldiers! But they didn't- and it might have something to do with what was going on within the Blazes' army, the decisions the leaders were making, and the side the soldiers were fighting for.

During the war, a rift formed within the Blazes' society over which side they would join in the war. Most of the citizens and soldiers would've fought for the Overworlders and for a time their leaders were set on this course of action as well. But something must have come along to change the leader's minds, and make the decision for them- whether it was greed or fear that spurred them into action against the Overworlders, it was greed and tyranny that would eventually devour their ranks from the inside out. This decision was an upsetting thing among the soldiers as they **had** to fight, regardless of which side their leaders choose to fight on. The opinions and voices of their people so quickly cut down that many saw the danger before it ever arrived, the disinterest in what the people underneath them wanted- the lack of consideration for their peoples beliefs and values would eventually become a trademark of that society during the war, and something that still lingers subtly even today.

This action by the leaders was undoubtedly one of the things that widened the rift even further, what widened it still more was the difference in the soldiers' thinking; some had wanted to fight against the Overworlders, others accepted their leaders' judgment and went along with the orders given to them, and others- others saw what was happening and took action. As more people were put in high ranking positions- more people began to gain more power...and power is infamous for corrupting the ones who own it. With more people in power there was now more of a chance for that power to be abused and suddenly it became much easier to become a tyrant.

Tyrants who wouldn't listen to the people or the warriors who worked beneath them- the people that **had **to work beneath them, because as the leaders grew crueler and crueler- so did the punishments. Any soldier who disobeyed orders and was found helping Overworlders was almost instantly put to death or banished form the Nether. And as so often happens in such circumstances- innocent lives were singled out and taken with no thought at all. Except to make the leaders' point..."Obey or Die.". People who had done nothing wrong were murdered, even ones who were fiercely loyal to their leaders were not safe. At least if what pieces of literature left over from that time are telling the truth; although so many paint the same picture that at least some of it must be believed.

So of course there were people that rebelled, sometimes in any way that they could. There are stories of Blazes slipping out of their own ranks and disguising themselves as dragons and other races, just to fight for the Overworlders. The spies and assassins who were supposed to work for their own kind delivered false information and helped the Overworld leaders who had been wanted dead to escape a sniper's arrow, or simply disappear before they could be killed. Some of this was probably done in spite against their own leaders, but the majority of it must have been to honestly help the Overworlders win the war. One of these stories sticks in my mind...and even today I can't seem to forget it. It's about this rift between the soldiers and what it eventually created- what it lead to.

I met one of them once, you know- an Ice Blaze...

...Wait?! You haven't heard of the Ice Blazes?!...Well then, listen- listen! I think you'll enjoy this!

* * *

On any given day the Nether fortresses were filled with the sounds of soldiers moving form one place to another, the sounds of training rang out into the halls, and there was an almost constant chatter as friends passed each other in the halls and stopped to talk for a few moments before continuing on their way. In such an uninhabitable realm, the fortresses weren't often attacked by the opposing armies- and the leaders were smart enough to at least allow their people the freedom required for them to be for the most part happy; so not much disturbed the relatively peaceful routine of the fortress.

Except...except the dungeon guards. With the army divided and with such harsh punishments against the accused, most Blazes tended to vanish whenever the dungeon guards showed themselves. Fearing that they too would meet the same fate as whatever poor soul happened to be under the scrutiny of their leaders. Among the soldiers knew the truth of this practice- the leaders wanted to scare others into turning in traitors...something that often didn't end well. Some Blazes were known to have paid of the dungeon guards to get rid of rivals, and almost any Blaze that made their displeasure with their leaders' decisions well known usually found themselves at the blade of a sword or the mouth of a Nether portal. The guards didn't care- the more prisoners they hauled in- the more gold filled their wallets. They often proved themselves to fit into the stereotype of the cruel, heartless, ruthless, and greedy warriors nearly everyone saw them as. And everyone knew to get out of the way especially when a real traitor was caught; when the leaders became frantic and started looking for ways to prove their authority and handle on the situation. When more innocents would be banished or executed just to make their point.

Or for the worst offenders- Nether portals that led straight into icy tundras that world drain the energy from a Blaze slowly and painfully.

And now as the rattle of diamond chains against nether-brick rang out in the corridors the population of the fortress found better places to be than the hallways. Soldiers who would leap fearlessly into battle no matter the odds, now turned and practically sprinted away from the noise. The thump of leather boots grew louder and louder- sending men and women scurrying around corners so that they world not be seen. A few peered through the slits in doors and watched, anxious to see which of their comrades it was this time being led or dragged to their doom. Holding their breath, as if the dungeon guards would accuse them of supporting the traitor if they heard them breathing to loudly or caught them watching the small parade of guards surrounding the single prisoner.

The Blaze in question was being dragged along mercilessly by his captors he was far to weak to stand or fly- but neither of the guards would bear the dishonor of bearing his weight. It was almost always the same scene- the bruises, cuts, and scars that showed the treatment given to those that found themselves in the dungeons; the weak flicker of flame- the dim, weak outline of their form that suggested just how exhausted they really were. Each handled it differently- some screamed, some cried, others begged or shouted curses at everyone and everything in sight- some had already lost their minds. This man grinned, and most of the people watching must have instantly labeled him as a lunatic- he had to be crazy after what he had done.

Smoke weaved around his feet, which were shackled so close together he wouldn't have been able to keep up with the guards' quick pace, even if he'd been able to stand. His spirit wasn't broken yet- he dug his feet stubbornly into the brick- making the guards carry his weight; using his last ounces of strength in a few final acts at defiance. He'd melted through four sets of obsidian chains, broke the noses of two guards, and had done all he could to provoke the guards and officials. Because he knew he was as good as dead, he hadn't even tried to plead his innocence. He would never be ashamed of what he had done- never.

Through corridor after corridor, the prisoner was dragged and whenever the guards' backs were turned he was grinning from ear to ear. Even after he was shoved through the extravagantly sculpted golden doors- a waste of money and resources just to display power and wealth, when the funds could have gone into feeding the new widows and their children; the fear was strangely absent from his heart. The murmuring Nether portal that had been built in the corner of the room just for this occasion was like a torch in the darkness to the warrior as he was thrown at the leader's feet then forced to stand. The polished obsidian gleamed brightly reflecting the light from glowstone and flame, orange mixing with violet and black in interesting colors and patterns. He looked at the portal rather than the other Blaze's face, as looking the leader in the eyes was a disrespect that would get him killed in an instant- then there would be no chance for survival. The prisoner nearly laughed when he thought of the amulet hidden under the rags he wore- if the sorcerer hadn't lied to him than he would no longer be a Blaze once he reached the other side of that portal- then he could go back- and return with more amulets for his family and the other rebels. He'd only been told to test out the amulet- but he had decided to kill two birds with one stone. And what lay on the other side of the portal was the icy, snow-covered terrain that every Blaze feared...except for him. A slight victorious smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth as his eyes migrated to a bloody patch on the floor near the immaculate desk- his own handy work.

How he'd smiled when they'd burst through the doors to see their Commander lying dead at his feet, the diamond sword glowing with the heat from the blood he'd spilled across that nether-brick. The fear that had so quickly appeared in their eyes still rang pleasantly in his memory- cowards; guiltless, bloodthirsty, power-hungry monsters the lot of them. He could still feel the words slipping from his mouth, the way the fear had intensified in their eyes- the guilt, the sorrow, the terror- the thought that maybe they were on the wrong side- the fear that they would be next to die- and the realization that they weren't safe in the Nether, that people weren't going to stand for what they were doing. The other leaders didn't know what that Commander had planned to do- didn't know the horror that the Blaze would have unleashed if left alive...which was why he had to die. It was just dumb luck that the prisoner possessed that little ice blue amulet that was supposed to save the rebels- the one that would allow him to survive the harsh climate on the other side of that wavering violet surface strung between the obsidian blocks.

He was unhappily jarred out of his thoughts when a swift punch to the gut doubled him over- he was lucky the amulet had restoration abilities enchanted into it or he'd have been dead long ago. They wanted him to cower- to fear him- to act frightened- to beg and plead for his life; because if he proved he was like every other prisoner, than there would be nothing left to fear- he would become just another nameless face and the leaders could go to sleep at night not having to fear for their lives. He needed to scream and beg so that they could feet that they'd gotten some form of justice, that they had recaptured their power. He'd be called a madman- a lunatic, and maybe he was, but at least he was not like them. One less tyrant to steal lives away from innocent people- he knew sadly other innocents would be killed because of him, but maybe if they suffered the exact punishment he did...then maybe there was a way for him to save them. Hopefully less people would die, hopefully now the rebels had a chance, and hopefully the Overworlders and their allies would win the war.

"You've been working with the Craftians all along, haven't you?" the general snarled, glaring menacingly at the Blaze in front of him, who returned the gaze with an equal amount of hatred. This man was wicked, but at least he didn't know what the Commander had planned- and at least he wasn't as ruthless as the last...although it wasn't by much. The diamond links rattled against the floor as the prisoner lunged forward suddenly, far faster than his battered frame seemed capable of- the general leaped back in slight fear as the prisoner laughed harshly.

"Your leaders are corrupt- you are corrupt; you kill your own for lifting a finger against you. And to make matters worse you're all blind. The alliances won't stand- once your "allies" get the Overworld, they'll come for the Nether next. You know it's true." The prisoner growled quietly.

"**SILENCE!**" the general roared, instantly the prisoner was shoved down onto his knees by both guards and held there with the blade of a sword and a filth-crusted boot. The general paced angrily, yelling nonsense for minutes on end- loud and harsh enough to make even the dungeon guards flinch. But the warrior grinned at the floor- knowing the general wouldn't kill him yet- knowing that the Blaze wanted him to suffer and would hold in his temper long enough to shove the traitor out of the Nether portal. He listened with slight humor at the rage he'd inspired- just one more act of defiance.

It took a few minutes before the general was finally able to calm down enough to approach the prisoner again, he spent those minutes opening and closing desk drawers and searching for things he didn't need with loud curses and bangs as the drawers were slammed shut. Trying not to kill the prisoner himself was a hard task for the enraged Blaze, but he managed to keep a hold on his temper as he slowed to a stop in front of the traitor who had been forced into a kneeling position by the guards. A wicked grin crossed his face as he stared down at the man, reminding himself of the fun he had planned for the once respected warrior. For a few moments the only sounds were those of the Blazes breathing, the crackle of fire, and a lone ghast screeching somewhere outside. The general bent over, squatting down next to the prisoner.

"You know the punishment for this don't you?" he snarled quietly.

A pause.

"**ANSWER ME!**" the general roared.

"Death" the prisoner snarled.

The general's smile grew even wider as he leaned down to whisper in the Blaze's ear, "You don't deserve to share death alone."

Confusion, shock, and fear- ice cold fear swept through the rebel's heart as he heard those words; he feared what it meant. He was terrified by the thought of who would be sent through the door- more than likely it would be one or more of the other rebels, maybe innocents- he didn't expect what happened next.

"Bring them in." the general ordered as he stood quickly, gesturing to the guards by the door.

And once again the golden doors slammed open- this time revealing a female Blaze and her young daughter- the rebel's wife and daughter. The general smiled cruelly at the expression that had crossed the prisoner's face- horror, terror, and grief warring for dominance in his eyes as the realization struck home- even with the amulet he couldn't save them. Maybe they were going to be forced to watch- maybe there was still a chance that his family wouldn't suffer the fate he had been sentenced to. But no, the words the general had spoken were enough to tell him the truth- enough to force it into his head no matter how hard he tried deny the truth of what was going to happen next. Rage erupted in his gaze and suddenly the rebel was yelling and screaming- fighting against the guards that were holding him back, tears filling his eyes as he managed to drag the guards a few feet in his outrage and fear- trying to do anything he could to save his family. He screamed and cursed as he watched them shove his family into the room in shackles- his wife's panicked face as the guards who had kindly led her and her daughter in the office only a moment ago, grabbed her and the girl- restraining them.

"**You can't do this! They've done NOTHING! YOU MONSTERS! MURDERERS!" **The prisoner continued to scream and fight as he watched them toss his daughter- no more than twelve years old through the Nether portal- screaming and kicking- yelling for her father and her mother to save her, even when the girl knew that there was no way for her parents to reach her. His wife practically leaped through the portal after her daughter, sobbing and screaming for help as they pushed her backwards towards the violet vortex until there was nowhere left to go- no one would act out to help them, so there was no one to save them. All the while the guards had been dragging him towards the portal- although he kept attacking him, throwing punches left and right- going for one than another as they kept pulling him away from the Blazes he attacked. Until finally he stood in the same spot his wife had stood only a moment before.

Leaning close once again, the general snarled cruelly and said- "You did this to them." then he tilted his head back and laughed. "And now you'll watch them die."

And with that the Blaze was shoved out of the Nether and onto the icy plains of the Overworld- an enchanted diamond pickaxe making sure that there would be no return trip for the family that had just been cruelly banished in a place they had no hope of surviving in.

* * *

The little girl stumbled on through the clean, black night- the words her father had told her ringing in her ears.

_"Whatever you do honey don't look back."_

_"Me and mommy are just gonna rest her for a little while, all right- why don't you go on, we'll catch you at the next village- it's not far from here. You're old enough to handle yourself and the guards might follow us through if they find out we're still alive. So you need to hurry and run ahead- we'll hold them off while you go get help."_

Lies- though the young child didn't know that. She stumbled through the darkness wondering at the billions of bright stars overhead- a sight that she had never seen before, to the Blaze it looked like fragments of glowstone dust scattered in the sky. Her feet occasionally dipped down and brushed against the white powdery drifts of snow and she wondered why Blazes feared the cold so much- it wasn't bad, it was actually kind of nice- more delicate than fire, but just as dangerous she supposed. Her father had told her that they had only been banished- she didn't know that they were supposed to die in the cold- didn't know that her parents no longer inhabited the world of the living.

But, Frost understood her name now- and rather liked it, the thin sheets of ice that covered the bark of trees had been instantly pointed out to her as her family had moved as swiftly as they could to find some safe warm place. Most warrior Blazes had a habit of naming their children after dangerous things and creatures, but Frost didn't understand how a thin sheet of ice could be so deadly- the colors that reflected off the stuff in the moonlight were absolutley beautiful and didn't seem dangerous to her at all. She fiddled with the necklace her father had given her as she drifted through the air- slowing down now as it was night and her mother and father were no where in sight and the village didn't seem to be as close as her parents had made it out to be. The little blue sapphire gleamed proudly against the silver chain, reflecting the rays of the moon and sending small glimmers of blue light across the snow blanketed forest floor.

She stopped completely when she realized that she might've gotten lost, or turned around somehow, panic and fear flaring in her mind for a second before she managed to calm herself and focus- there was no sense crying about it, all she could do was continue to travel forward and find a village- then she could find a road and go to other nearby villages where her parents might have meant for her to go and bring back help from. But, she didn't really know the way back very well- although the Overworlders probably knew the area much better than her- and her parents would find their way to another village and someone there would've probably seen them and could tell her where they'd gone. So there was nothing to worry about- she just had to find a village or a road- the later would be more difficult since the snow almost completely covered everything within sight- except the trees which stuck out at random, ice-covered branches stretching high into the sky as if reaching for the moon. So timidly the child continued to walk forward; out of her old life and into her new one.

* * *

Her boots thumped heavily against the cobblestone road, she was tired, so very tired- but she'd found it...a road. And far, far off in the distance she thought she could see chimney smoke drifting into the morning air, and maybe- just maybe she had heard the sound of a horse calling out in the foggy, cold dawn. So she kept walking- to tired to fly, if she had been an Overworlder or had simply felt the sting of ice cold air she would have known that something was different about her. If she had looked into a mirror she would have been astonished at her appearance. She no longer resembled the typical Blaze- instead she was something different altogether; but unmistakably a Blaze.

And as she walked into town, completely exhausted by the events of the day before, villagers stopped their work and stared at the small figure that walked along the road toward the only spot of civilization within miles, astonished by what they saw. Ice and mist swirled strongly around the small child- her figure slightly transparent now that she was so weak- and so desperate to get someone to go and search for her parents. Ice dusted the relatively dry road wherever she walked. The amulet thumped softly against her neck- catching the gaze of an old sorcerer- the very same that had finished crafting and enchanting the piece only a month ago- though he'd traveled quite a ways to deliver it to the people it had been intended for.

Cold fear stirred in his heart as he remembered the Blaze that had so proudly talked about his daughter- Frost, how happy the man had been at the prospect of getting his family away from the turmoil in the Nether- moving them somewhere the Blazes couldn't reach them. That Blaze had been his friend, and now as the girl approached he bolted forward- running as fast as he could to the small child that wore the amulet around her neck. Oddly no tears were in her eyes and she actually managed to smile up at the old man as he slowed. He could feel the eyes of the entire village watching him as he glanced desperately down the road behind her, searching for a few figures he knew wouldn't be there.

"Your parents?" He asked carefully.

"They sent me ahead- told me I needed to go get help incase the guards decided to k-k-kill us." she answered. "Will you help me find them- I don't know the way back?"

There was only one reason in the sorcerer's mind that a young child would be sent alone through a landscape like this. Grief clouded his heart as he inwardly cursed whatever event had sent the Blaze and his wife to their graves- as least the amulet had kept the little girl alive- at least it had worked and that meant it was safe to make more...but at what cost. The little girl watched him with impatience- looking as if she didn't know whether to run back and begin the search for her parents alone or to ask someone else.

"Y-yes, I'll help." he answered trying to hold himself together, he didn't want to worry her- she would have enough grieving to do when her parents were found, she should be allowed to have whatever happiness she could until then. Somehow he felt it was his fault- was already coming up with ways he might make it up to the young child- although it wasn't his fault.

"Is that a-a Blaze?" someone murmured to another, nearby- the sound drifting up to the frozen tree branches and mixing with the sound of birdsong. Fluffy grey clouds drifted through the bright blue sky, and the sun just barely managed to poke through the thick blankets of mist floating through the air so high above, to catch on the window panes of homes and shops. As if the world didn't realize what had just taken place, as if it didn't know or care about what this child had and would suffer. What she would've suffered if the sorcerer hadn't made the amulet- or if it hadn't worked; what her parents had suffered as she had trekked through the snow for who knew how many miles. Searching for help that was already too late.

* * *

And so the first Ice Blaze was a small child known as Frost, she was raised by the villagers- silent and scarred by the events of her past. She was trained to fight, trained to survive, and taught how to live no matter the odds in such a desolate place as the icy tundra that she had found herself in. She worked endlessly and fearlessly as an adult- helping other Blazes to escape; continuing to make the amulets when the old sorcerer died- so that others could escape their own kind.

She became a kind, wise leader and a fearsome warrior, one that was determined to make sure that there was a place for Blazes that no longer felt safe among their own.

And this place? This village?

It's a hard two week's ride north of the abandoned city Glacierville- nearly a month's worth of travel from the closest large city- Gryphon King; and as you know- not much lies to the north of Gryphon King City after a day or two of hard riding. It's a rough trip and defiantly not for the faint of heart, but it's more than worth the risk if you want to hear more stories that tie into this one or just want to meet the Ice Blazes. They're a friendly sort, and they'll be more than glad to have you- they don't get that many visitors. And if you still don't believe my tale, just ride down main street until you see the statue with the amulet around its neck.

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**A/N: So how was that? This prompt comes from HeroSeekerFrost- big thanks- this was awesome to work on! (= But if I've messed it up you have full rights to chew me out in the review section! Thank you so much for leaving the prompt it's been fun to so much fun to work with, finding ways to incorporate what was suggested into a fairly complete short-story.**

** This has taken the better part of the day to type up and I'm pretty sure my jaw is going to hit the floor when I get to see the word count on this one- and I'm actually working on a computer this time- although I did have a few breaks. I hope you like it- if you don't, I can always try again!**

** Thank you all for the comments all of you've left on any of my stories, it's exciting to know that people love these ideas as much as I do. And thanks with putting up with me not posting for a long time- I'm not even going to give you an excuse- I'm just lazy and can't seem to motivate myself. But I've driven nearly two hours in the past few days- once for college textbooks, and then the very next day to go get a laptop; I ****_might_**** have gotten this out sooner if it hadn't been for that. It was eventful thought- a wasp got in the car while I was ordering food, and a mockingbird nearly flew into the windshield on the way home Tuesday, so-yeah. **

** Also if you have any prompts or suggestions, I'd love to hear them- I was literally jumping up and down with joy when I got this one! So you'd make me very happy if you sent in more- I didn't plan on doing a prompt this soon, but I got thinking about and couldn't help myself- I just started writing. I hope you all enjoyed!**

** Thanks for reading!**

** BlueHorse.**


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